


Let Justice Be Done

by soseta



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Multi, Townsmen noncon woman sentenced to public use - Freeform, Victim tied down and used over a long period of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 22:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soseta/pseuds/soseta





	Let Justice Be Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sockinabox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sockinabox/gifts).



There was almost no time to think between the pronouncing of sentence and its execution. One moment Marie was standing in the dock, wearing her smartest clothes and simple jewellery, trying to straddle that fine line between looking like a respectable, law abiding citizen and offending the jury with her wealth and privileged position, the next she was being hustled out of the courtroom and into the plaza for justice to not only be done, but seen to be done.

A bailiff removed her pearl necklace, earrings, and wedding and engagement rings with surprising care as they walked down the corridor to the great bronze double doors, placed them in a small envelope, and sealed it. “You can collect these at the property office following correction,” he said dispassionately, and turned to head back inside.

The guards led her onward, down the marble stairs and into the square. It was already full of cheering onlookers, and she faltered for a moment, acknowledging what she had been insistently denying to herself all through the trial. Her embezzlement had been blatant, undeniable, and where once she could have expected a slap on the wrist, the new regime had swept to power on a tide of the common people’s rage, and for the first time white collar offences were punished as harshly as any other. She stopped walking, unable to face the crowd, many of them bankrupted by the collapse of her company or others like it, the rest just keen for an afternoon of entertainment. The guards dragged her on, uncaring.

The crowd parted obediently to let them mount the five steps to the platform where the corrective bench rested, and then the guards were tearing at her clothes, none of the bailiff’s care as they ripped her silk dress open down the front, exposing her not only to the gathered throng, but to the cameras broadcasting her punishment live to anyone who cared to watch at home. She began to cry as their rough hands removed her bra and pulled down her underwear, but there was no point struggling, there was no possible escape, and her lawyer had been very clear in her final instructions: no one was allowed to use additional violence on her, beyond the execution of sentence, as long as she accepted her punishment and didn’t try to fight. 

The guards led her to the bench, and draped her unresisting body over it. The metal was cold on her bare skin, and her breasts pressed uncomfortably against it as they arranged her limbs. It was shaped like a child’s slide, she couldn’t help thinking, irrationally, as they pulled her arms past her hanging head and secured her wrists to hooks in the platform below. They then moved behind her, spread her legs wide, and shackled them to the support struts. The only padding was a disposable cushion beneath her abdomen, raising her lower body just enough off the support to allow access, but leaving the whole grisly apparatus unencumbered when it came time to hose it down afterwards. Her mind focused on such inconsequential details rather than the inevitability of what was to come.

Her head they did not secure. She could lift it or not as she chose, and she did, just once, to verify that her husband had kept his promise and not attended. She had heard horror stories of family members attending correction, as keen to observe as the mob, but John was not there. The front row was all board members and shareholders, she recognised some of them. The rest were just a blur of strangers, many of them probably small investors, some just the willing volunteers that this new form of punishment had quickly found in the populace. She let her head fall as one of the guards read out her list of crimes to the crowd to a chorus of boos and jeers, and then the final sentence: eight hours of correction, from noon till eight pm.

The crowd fell quiet as the clock in the high court’s bell tower began to ring, twelve slow and steady peals, and then she felt the first man step up behind her. Perhaps it was worse, after all, not being able to see. The crowd filled her vision, but the line of correctors was behind her, an unknown, and all the more terrifying for that. The man touched her back, stroked a cold hand from her neck to the curve of her buttocks, then said quietly, “I won the ballot, Marie. I get to go first.” It was one of the junior accountants, someone she’d hired herself, and liked.

“Ed, I’m sorry,’ she said. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t bother,” he said coldly. “I got another job, I’m one of the lucky ones. Wait till Derek or Marcus get up here. They’re still out of work; hard to live down not spotting fraud on your scale.”

She shuddered and tried to brace herself for what was coming. She almost wished he’d get it over with instead of just standing there, rubbing his thumb back and forth on her hip. Until he actually did. His hand moved quickly, fingers thrusting inside her, and she tried to move despite herself, but there was nowhere to go, unforgiving metal and the angle of the bench making retreat impossible. He shoved his fingers in and out of her vagina, probing, testing the angles, then pulled them back out and unzipped his trousers. The sound of the zip was loud in the waiting silence, and then there was a cheer from the crowd as his penis was exposed.

“Fuck, that’s huge,” she heard one voice, a woman’s voice, say clearly, followed by a chorus of agreement and laughter.

“It _is_ big,” Ed agreed from behind her. “Lots of my girlfriends have said so. I hope you enjoy it, Marie, you deserve it.”

She flinched as the tip of it brushed against her, tried instinctively to clench her vagina closed somehow, but it was impossible. The head butted up against her, and she felt his fingers again, brushing against the spread lips of her labia as he positioned it perfectly. The crowd was silent again, waiting, and then in one savage thrust he forced his way fully inside her. She screamed from the shock and pain of it, and then the crowd was screaming too, insults and encouragement mixed, as Ed began to move.

His penis truly was enormous, she could feel every inch of it as he battered his way in and out of her. Her vagina was dry, unaroused and unprepared, nothing so merciful as lubricant to lessen the impact of correction, and every thrust in was a rasping drag against her inner walls, every pull out a momentary mercy that allowed her to breathe shallowly before the next assault. He had both length and girth, the width of that monstrous organ enough to stretch her painfully, the length enough to leave no part of her untouched, the head prodding brutally at her cervix. He had stamina too, and he pounded on and on, long after she dreamed he could. At last he came with a triumphant groan, and she felt his ejaculate flood her insides. No condom, of course. She started to cry again from the humiliation of it, almost worse than the pain.

At last he pulled out, and there was a respite of perhaps thirty seconds as he zipped up and walked away, and the next man climbed the steps to take his place. This one said nothing, and there was nothing distinctive about him for her to recognise, and that was almost worse than knowing. He barely paused to pull his pants down, she could feel the coarse fabric rub against her as he moved. One of the ordinary workers then, not an executive in an expensive suit. He wasted no time in thrusting himself inside her, and he was at least not as big as Ed, though hardly small himself.

He had an utterly different technique, jackhammering against her, very short thrusts, never pulling out all the way, and very quick, the friction unbearable, even with Ed’s semen inside her to ease the way somewhat. She gritted her teeth and pressed her hands flat against the slide, and tried to brace herself. He finished quickly, at least, a few minutes and then done, another gush of hot, wet come.

The next man was slow again, but his penis was much smaller. She wondered idly, hysterically, if she was going to catalogue them all, remember them all, if she would ever be able to have sex with John again without comparing his size and performance.

After that, it was a stranger's turn, a man who hadn't even worked for her company, or known her at all before he'd seen her on the news. He made a point of telling her so while he unbuckled his belt. "I like to do my bit for justice," he said. "And when I saw you I knew this was one correction I couldn't miss. You're beautiful, you know. I'm going to enjoy this even more than usual."

He took his time getting started, slapping his rock hard penis against her buttocks, then sliding the tip of it up and down her cleft, stroking it over and over the entrance to her vagina, just letting it dip into her slightly before moving again. It was maddening, not knowing when to expect his assault, when to prepare for yet another violation. Just as the crowd was beginning to get impatient he slid his penis slowly into her. He wasn't as long as the others had been, bottoming out quickly, despite the gradual pace, but he was thick, thicker than any of them, even Ed. Perhaps his slowness had been a kindness after all, because he seemed to swell even more inside her, become thicker, harder. He rocked his pelvis against her, barely withdrawing at all, just moving his penis around in a circular, rocking motion that stretched her almost beyond bearing. He made almost no noise when he came inside her, and she waited for him to move, pull out, but to her horror she realised he wasn't softening at all. He kept grinding against her, a thick solid rod inside her core that never withdrew, just pulsed and throbbed as he pressed down on her shoulders with his full weight, crushing her breasts against the bench, and promised that he wouldn't leave, that he would wait till everyone on the ballot had had their turn, and then would use her again in the final hours before correction was deemed complete, when anyone who wanted and was able was allowed another turn. He came a second time at her shudder of revulsion, this time with a grunt of satisfaction, and patted her on the head as he zipped up and walked away.

Derek was next. He didn't say anything, but she recognised his dark skin and the watch on his wrist the company had bought him in recognition of twenty years service. He'd been there longer than she had. He'd always been calm in a crisis, cool even when everyone else was flying off the handle, and he brought that same focus to bear now, approaching her clinically, seemingly taking no real enjoyment beyond the satisfaction of seeing her punished for her crimes. He wrapped his large hands around her thighs, used his thumbs to hold her already spread labia open even wider, then slid his penis into her slowly but firmly, no assistance required and no hesitation. His thrusts were as steady and rhythmic as a metronome, never faltering, never changing pace. He withdrew almost fully every time, just the bulbous head of his penis left inside her vagina, then pushed strong and sure back in to his full length, probing inside her, balls nestling against her inner lips as he held her hard against him, flexed his hips to get just that little bit of extra depth of penetration. When he came, finally, it was with a sigh, and that was more humiliating than anything that had gone before, that he hadn't even taken any pleasure in using her body so thoroughly, just the most basic physical release, and the satisfaction of knowing that she was being publicly and permanently ruined.

The sixth man slapped her hard on the buttocks before greeting her. It was one of the night watchmen from the flagship building downtown, and he’d always been friendly to her in the past, though she’d never managed to remember his name. “You’re a cunt, Marie,” he said harshly as he unzipped. “You’ve always been a cunt. And this is what cunts like you deserve."

He fucked her for what felt like forever. It was fucking, pure and simple, no anatomical vocabulary or clinical description could distance her any longer. His cock rasped back and forth inside her, ravaging her overused cunt, and he was right, that was what she was, even if she didn't, couldn't, believe that this was what she deserved. He treated her like a piece of meat, hands shifting from her hips to slide under her body, squeezing her tits hard, pulling painfully at the nipples. The stretch brought him closer than any of the others over her back, his full weight pressing her hard against the metal slab, warm now from her body heat but utterly unyielding. His hips slammed against her from behind, and the pillow protected her from the bite of the metal, but not from the impact of his pelvis against her. His balls slapped against her repeatedly, disgustingly, but at least they were soft, unlike the rest of him, bruising her buttocks and the whole entrance to her body. He came at last with a roar, and pulled out roughly halfway through, splattering the last of it on the small of her back.

The next was Marcus. She recognised his aftershave even before he spoke. But he did speak, wanting her to know it was him. He was far angrier than Derek had been. He'd always had a temper. "My house is going to mortgagee sale," he hissed into her ear. "I worked hard my whole life, did everything right, and now my whole family is out on the street because I can't get a job. Because of you."

She breathed deep, and through the snot and the tears managed to force out, "I'm sorry."

"Fuck your sorry," he said. "And fuck you. You're _going_ to be sorry."

He swiped his hand through the mess on her back, then shoved between her legs where the mingled come of six different men was slowly oozing out of her. It felt revolting, cooling in the air and drying sticky on her skin, but the slipperiness of it inside her abraded pussy had been a mercy, and she was glad for it as she realised what he meant to do. She didn't bother to protest, what was the point, and sure enough, he swiped his wet hand over the exposed bud of her asshole, untouched till now. She clenched her teeth and tried as hard as she could to relax. He was allowed to hurt her as much as necessary to get the job done, but not to use more force than required. She'd never had anything inside her ass before, John wasn't exactly adventurous in bed, but she'd heard enough off colour jokes in the boardroom - what an irony, she thought now, couldn't help herself from reliving it all, and how she'd played along, keen to be one of the boys - to know that it would be worse if she tensed up.

There was a wet, squelching sound as Marcus slicked up his cock with the last of the come, and then the head was stabbing at her hole. It clenched reflexively, and she willed herself to relax, but it was impossible with the crowd cheering raucously, and Marcus himself whispering vile promises. He forced his way in an inch, then two, and it burned horribly, her body fighting him the whole way, and then he pulled out, pushed in again, harder this time, gained another inch, then out. The third time he made it halfway inside her, and stopped there, stayed there, leaning over her with his full weight, breathing hot and wet in her ear. "God you feel good," he said. He rocked his hips against her, side to side, and she felt herself loosening just a little, and then he began to thrust, slowly at first, not pulling out more than halfway, then finally forcing his full length inside her. She felt his thighs hit the back of her own, his hips against hers, and the full, heavy weight of his cock inside her, like a brand, pulsing hotly. She began to sob as he sawed away inside her, but he just kept pounding on.

The clock struck one.


End file.
